the Handmaid

The new Handmaid came today. Offred, but they are all named Offred. She looked surprised I answered the door, but if she was she hid it well. I brought her into the sitting room and sat with the cigarette in my mouth. Nasty habit, but to hard to give up. My left foot was hurting again, I had to put it up on the stool.

The new Offred was looking longingly at my cigarette, like she wanted to trade. Laughable. What would a Handmaid have to trade. Not even their bodies now because of this new world. I told her to sit down and she sat on the edge of the chair, as if she wanted to leave. As if she had the choice. When she finally met my eyes, I told her the truth. That I want to see her as little as possible. That I know that she feels the same. She didn't answer; I know that she must hate me and all the Wives. I also said that if she gives me trouble, I will give it right back.
I will never be those weak mnded, insecure Handmaids.

The only reason I tolerate those Handmaids is for the .......baby. Why?.........Why? If the leaders changed everything in our life, why couldnt they change the way we could have children?! For that little slut to have .... to be...... with my husband! I loath them. All of them. And most especially....her.

The Black Market

Women are not supposed to read. Not anymore. Just like women especially the Handmaids are not supposed to smoke, drink, or have sex outside of the Ceremony or just for "fun".

To bad.

I can still read, still write. That is something that not even my husband can take away from me. HE doesn't know about this book. How I had Nick, our Guardian, find it for me in the Black Market. He is so loyal. Sadly he will never rise to a higher station in this world.

The Commander allows me to wear embroidered flowers one my vail and to talk to him. I'm at least still able to control the women side of the house. He will never interfere. That is my right. This book... I'm given time alone after dinner in our room. That is when I will right. No one can know about this. The Eyes can never find this. I need this little black book, to hide. To compose myself. She cannot know what I feel.

Who Am I? What Am I To Do?

Mine.

This book is mine. There isn't many things I can call mine now.

Who am I?

I have a name, Serena Joy, but I was called Pam. Now, I'm a Wife, a title, only an accessory added on to my husband, the Commander. I was once beautiful; blond hair and blue eyes with a cute small nose. My looks have withered since my singing days and I am .........old. At least I am still tall compared to the Handmaid. By at least four inches.

There are few things I am allowed to do. To knit, sew, like a never ending broken sewing machine! Only one is enjoyable; my garden. Pleading the petite blooms out of the ground to spread their petals to the sun. To be beautiful and to do as they please to please others like me. Knitting and sewing only force unmentionable thoughts in my mind. I should not think them.

I want to stab that Handmaid right in the stomach, make her feel the pain I suffer when we are doing the Ceremony!! To make her understand, to force that smirk hiding off her face. This nightmare will never happen. Can never happen. Not if I get what I want. I cant hurt my chances of getting one. I cant.
Can't...